


In the Packaging

by trascendenza



Category: Invisible Man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-06
Updated: 2007-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"What's the big deal?  It's Fawkes juice.  All-natural."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Packaging

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tinheart's request of banter.

"This looks like hair gel."

"I assure you it's _not_."

"I don't want this shit on my dick."

"Bobby. You think that you're some kind of self-lubricating freak of nature or something?"

"I thought that was your schtick."

"Well, yes. But I don't use the silver stuff for anything other than the disappearing act."

"What's the big deal? It's Fawkes juice. All-natural."

"Except for the part where it's bio-synthetic. And even if it did work, I'm not going to take the risk of finding out. I'd have to sign over the last of my dignity to this job if I ever had the Keep poking a light up my butt to figure out why my ass has suddenly disappeared."

Bobby uncapped the bottle and sniffed. "_Smells_ just like the stuff that goes in your hair."

Darien leveled a look at him. "Now you're just making things up. You didn't even take the little aluminum thingie off that seals it."

"I'll have you know that I have special training in—"

"Olfactory detection, yes, we know. We all know. But I'm telling your nose to double check its facts, because I am _not_ stupid enough to put something with the words 'assliciously delicious' in the title on my hair."

"But you were stupid enough to buy something by that name, Fawkes, and that worries me."

"Give me that!" Darien sighed, snatched the bottle. "Fine, you want to go out and buy something else? You won't get any argument from me."

"Now, wait—"

"No, you go ahead." Darien slipped the bottle in his pocket and started to unbutton his shirt. "Me and this flowery-smelling shit will just get the party started without you."

"No need to be hasty—"

"Oh? Now Hobbesy wants to play?" Darien said, dropping the shirt and unworking the top button of his distractingly tight pants. "Well. Hobbesy and Crown Prince Robert have gotta play by my rules."

"I—well." Bobby loosened his tie, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. "Bobby Hobbes is a man of action."

Darien backed up to the door, undoing one more button before resting his forearms on the top of the frame. His pants started to ride lower on his hips, his well-defined bones peeking through.

"No, I understand. You don't wanna play, you don't wanna play. No one's going to force you." He kicked off his shoes, and then lowered an arm, touching one finger to the hem on his pants. Quicksilver quickly coated the garishly bright orange material, rendering it invisible in seconds and leaving Darien effectively naked in front of Bobby.

Bobby's skin flushed an interesting shade of eggplant as he realized that, if _all_ of Darien was visible like this, it meant he wasn't wearing any underwear beneath those space-age pants. He threw his jacket off, tearing off his tie and ripping at the buttons of his shirt until it came loose.

By the time he'd stripped to his boxers and made it to the doorway, Darien was sauntering into the bedroom, his pants once more a very bright, very frustrating, orange.

Bobby ran after him, all pretenses of resistance forgotten as he leapt onto the bed.

Darien smirked. "So now you wanna play, Bobby?"

"Deal me in, partner."

"Now that," Darien said, climbing onto the bed between Bobby's legs, "is more like it." He worked his nimble fingers through the waist band of Bobby's boxers, biting little trails down along his hips. "First, we dispose of these." He started to slide them down, but when they'd go no further, he used his teeth and tore through the thin fabric.

"I'm lucky you shop cheap," he said, spitting out threads and getting back to work biting up along Bobby's thighs.

"One thing I'll say for you, Fawkes." Hobbes strained to keep his breathing even as Darien's mouth circled in closer to the whole reason he'd jumped onto bed. "You know how to argue your case."

Darien looked up at him, half-smiling, his lips half-parted and red. "And you're the only guy I've ever known who I've had to argue into bed."

As if he _knew_ that Bobby would immediately try to leap out of the bed just to prove a point, he laid a kiss on the head of Bobby's cock.

"Oh, hell, Fawkes," Bobby said, unable to remember why just a second ago he'd wanted to get away from that sweet mouth; he wouldn't be able to get enough air into his lungs until it moved, until—

Those red lips opened further and descended down the length of him, slow and firm, bringing a ring of searing sensation in their wake. Bobby jerked helplessly underneath him, bunching the covers in his fists, crying out loud as quicksilver flooded out of the tip of Darien's tongue and left mixing trails of hot and cold all along his dangerously sensitized skin.

"Fawkes… Darien…" He used a hand on Darien's neck to draw him away, chest heaving. "If we're going to be using that shit in your pocket let's do it."

"Your wish is my command," Darien said, giving him a mock-salute, reaching into his pocket and then finally stripping out those evil pants. The lubricant wasn't as bad as Bobby had been expecting—wasn't as cold quicksilver, anyway. Taking a dollop, he sat back against the head board and pulled Darien into his lap, slipping two fingers inside him and getting a beautifully arched back for his efforts.

Bobby affixed hands to Darien's hips, guiding him to where he needed to be. Pushing in, he was incremental for a few inches, but when Darien did this _thing_ with his hips where he rolled downward and brought them closer, Bobby gave up and just tried to keep up with his rhythm.

"Just like that, partner," he said, reaching one hand back to hold onto the headboard, the other laid diagonally across Darien's midsection. The heat built between them, slow at first, like Darien's pace, gentle rolling waves, but soon it picked up, like two sticks approaching the burst of flame, smoking at the edges and becoming hot to the touch.

"Feels good, Bobby," Darien whispered, reaching his own arms back and bracing himself wide, dropping his head into the crook of Bobby's shoulder. Bobby held him tighter, moving his hips with increasing urgency and kissing Darien's neck, biting at his earlobe, barely holding on, sensing his breaking point approaching but still needing, still trying too—

"Fuck me, Bobby," Darien groaned out, and Bobby lost all semblance of control, pushing into him with single-minded purpose and slipping his free hand around Darien's cock.

Their harsh breathing was the only sound in the room until Darien tensed, shuddering and crying out, covering them in a lightning-fast and skin prickling layer of quicksilver. Only then did Bobby let go and give in, holding Darien with all his strength as he rode it out.

"Christ, partner," Bobby exhaled, slumping down onto the bed.

Darien noodled his way over to his side—the right—and smiled dazedly.

They positioned themselves in a way that wasn't cuddling, but might have been a close relative, a second cousin, perhaps. There was some grumbling about pillow distribution and blanket allocation, but they finally settled matters and got down to the important stuff: sleeping.

"Teach you to talk smack about my hair gel," was the last thing Bobby consciously heard before he drifted off into a sated and heavy sleep.


End file.
